Striving for a 'Christian Woodstock'

By TAMMY LA GORCE

Published: August 21, 2005

WITH a sweat-basted Christian ranting into a microphone about his past run-ins with Satan, the presence of a blue-haired, goateed youth wearing a collar of spikes and a web of chains across his body can seem oddly comforting. And when circumstances dictate that some 4,500 music fans gathered in an achingly open field in 100-degree heat must share 15 portable toilets, there is also comfort, however false, to be had in knowing that the assembled are a clean-living, God-fearing people.

For those who were not true believers, Revelation Generation, the seven-band ''Christian Woodstock'' staged here Aug. 13 at the 110-acre Revelation Farms, was often less spiritually enlightening than sociologically and culturally revealing.

A single pass through the gantlet of vendors lining the parched field unearthed the existence of a Christian-specific form of kung fu (dong tsuo fan ying kung-fu, a ''faith-enhancing martial art built on biblical principles'' developed by an Englewood man) and a ministry, identifiable by its bat logo, tailored to the religious concerns of Christian Goths.

If the subcultures within the subculture were a jolt to the unsuspecting, though, the music -- earth-shakingly loud and sometimes fierce -- was a divinity-streaked lesson in the rewards of loving thy neighbor's music, even when thy neighbor's music is widely regarded as second-rate.

As long and as loudly as Christians have been thumping the artistic merit of their contemporary music, the whiff of Amy Grant has never fully left it. But the bands secured by Revelation Farms' owners, Robert and Kim Grom, including the hard-rocking Skillet and the MTV-approved Further Seems Forever, were, for New Jersey, a start -- and a nod toward the Creation Festival held near Pittsburgh each June.

''This is like a mini-Creation,'' said Shannon Zeckzer, 17, who traveled to Revelation Generation from Old Bridge with the Simpson United Methodist Church's youth group. ''We kind of need to tell the world about this music.''

She fanned herself beneath an umbrella as the Chris Coletti Band from Wyckoff stormed through U2's ''Beautiful Day.''

Creation, a multiday, multistage Christian rock blowout, is to Revelation Generation -- which the Groms hope to make an annual event, with all profits going to the Young Life ministry -- what the Rev. Billy Graham is to the new pastor in town. If the two events share a vibe, though, they don't share a cause, Mr. Grom said.

''Rock bands can really bring it home for kids,'' he said. ''Out there in Hunterdon County, the kids have nothing. We don't even have Wawa's.''

What they do have, he said, are swarms of teenagers increasingly susceptible to substance abuse and ''the wrong path.''

''There's been so many deaths,'' he said. ''When I speak to the local rescue-team guys, they're the ones who have to pull kids out of cars and tell their parents what's happened to them. There are so many sad stories. Just the other day I found out a girl who used to make my sandwiches at the deli around the corner died of an overdose.

''There's really a need for a place where kids can come together and hear bands that sing about something positive, instead of the devil. There's always a difference in doctrines -- we have Catholics and Presbyterians and the Assembly of God coming together and over 300 volunteers in all -- but we all believe in God, and we all knew we had to pull this together for the youth of Hunterdon County.''

Between bands, there was a bit of testifying and confessing, too. Carmen Mercadante, now a counselor for teenagers in Ridgefield, recounted how Satan told him to kill himself during a night in jail long ago, and a former New Jersey state trooper, Kurt Schafer, now an evangelist's bodyguard, spoke about the drug habit he once supported by ''busting guys on the Turnpike and taking their coke.''

Chances are, though, that those messages were lost on Airial Freeman, a 16-year-old Lil' Kim look-alike from Wilmington, Del., who wandered the cooler-strewn grounds as the searing afternoon wore on. ''I don't even know who these bands are,'' she said as the Phoenix pop-punks Stellar Kart appealingly screeched their inspirational lyrics. ''I'm more into emo and screamo rock. I just like vibing to the music.''

Her friend Kayla Robinson, 17, who wore a dangly earring with a ''rebel'' charm, arranged the road trip from Delaware specifically to see BarlowGirl, three sisters from Chicago who back up their pro-abstinence platform with hook-and-harmony-heavy pop. ''They sing about stuff we all go through as girls, with dating and drugs,'' she said.

Two bands later, William Sanchez, 18 and wearing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, hung back as the people around him pumped their fists and fashioned hallelujah poses to the bright power-pop chords of Further Seems Forever from Pompano Beach, Fla. ''It's still hard for Christian music to compete with secular rock,'' he said. ''But I listen to a little Christian rock for the message.''

And that's sweet music indeed to Mr. Grom.

''When I was in high school in the 70's,'' he said, ''I would sing along with songs like 'Teenage Wasteland' and wonder, 'Why is what I'm singing so negative?' My kids sometimes think the old man's not that hip, but these bands are not untalented by any means. They're reaching out with something kids need. Encouragement.''

Photos: Revelation Generation, a seven-band concert in Frenchtown, drew 4,500 fans, including David E. Sapp of Cherry Hill. (Photographs by Warren Westura for The New York Times)